


The Best Today

by Avery_Waverly, orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, M/M, Slow Burn, jeanmarco
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-14 00:14:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4542891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avery_Waverly/pseuds/Avery_Waverly, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jean Kirschtein has a run in with a werewolf, he thinks things can't get any weirder.<br/>When Marco Bodt meets a cute boy on a train, he thinks that things are finally looking up in his life.<br/>Alas, reality continues to try and prove them both wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Today

Trains aren't exactly my favourite mode of transport. They're rickety, overcrowded, and the food is never as good as it should be. So, considering these statements, it shouldn't be a surprise that when this random guy sits down next to me and starts making conversation, I'm not totally enthused by the idea.   
Alright, alright, maybe I'm over exaggerating just a little. It's not like he just plonks himself down in my personal bubble and starts chatting away like we’re high school BFFs, or anything.

My head is down when he approaches, my eyes focused on the Walkman in my lap (It's retro, okay?).  
He clears his throat to draw my attention, and I let my eyes flick up to his freckled face, plucking one of my earbuds out.

"Hi, do you mind if I join you? I kinda reserved this seat..." he chew on his lip, scratching the back of his neck. I blink slightly, glancing to the monitor above my head. Yep, seat's reserved alright. Well fuck. I've already settled myself in quite nicely- my bag is lovely and cosy up on the luggage compartment, and I really can't be bothered to find another seat.  
I grunt in agreement, sliding up to the window to give him some space. He sits down gratefully, dragging his bag across his lap as he muses his hair with his fingers.   
“I'm Marco, by the way,” he smiles, holding a hand out for me to shake. I offer him up a weak handshake in response.  
“Jean.”  
“So where are you heading, Jean?”

“Just back into Trost... Uh, you?” I shift uncomfortably in the new, cold seat, trying not to make eye contact.  
“Me too! I was out of town visiting my family but I'm going back. It'll be good to be home.”  
He lets out a contented sigh as he relaxes into the comfort of his fancy reserved seat, and it takes a whole awkward silence for me to realise I was probably meant to reply to that.  
“I, uh, I'm moving in with some new people in Trost, so I'm heading out to see the apartment...” I scratch my neck uncomfortably, fiddling with the bud of my earphone, compressing and decompressing it.  
"Ah man, that's cool, the apartments in Trost are usually pretty nice. I hope your roommates are nice too," Marco practically beams, "whereabouts is your apartment by the way?"  
"Uhhh..." I stall, unsure if I should really be sharing my living arrangements with a guy I just met on a train. Sure he seems nice, but Ted Bundy was supposedly the sweetest son of a bitch you'd ever met, and he killed a ton of people.  
"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be weird about it or anything, it's just that I have an apartment in Central Trost and I was wondering if you'd be nearby. Sorry if I overstepped or anything."  
"Nah man, you're good, uh, yeah it's in Central Trost... I'm not telling you like _where_  though, you're not abolished of serial killer potential just yet."  
Marco laughs, a sweet sound, and nods, "that’s quite alright, you never know who to trust these days.”  
I shift in my seat, wiping my palms on my jeans. Fuck clammy hands and fuck this train. Marco clears his throat before continuing,  
“So, what do you do fo--”  
Marco gets cut off mid-sentence as the train rattles violently.  
“What the sweet fuck is that?” A girl exclaims from across the aisle, palms flat on the window, cheek pressed against the glass. Not a second after, a large bang ricochets through the carriage and my heart leaps up into my throat. Everybody goes silent as... as something moves about above us. It sounds scarily like footsteps, and believe me, that is _not_  a comforting idea.  
The lights of the train car flicker violently as the... whatever it is moves it's way across the roof. Everybody's eyes are fixed at the ceiling as the lights flicker aggressively, until, with a final blink, the car is plunged into darkness. Shrill screams echo around me, and a hand comes to grab my arm following a distressed sound from the boy next to me. My head snaps around in the darkness, gazing out of the tinted window. I'm not sure whether it's the fear coursing through my system making things seem worst than they are, but it seems abnormally dark outside. It can’t be that late, surely. An ear splitting sound rips through the carriage, leaving my entire body cold. Marco tightens his grip on my arm as he yelps.  
Although I can't see it happen, I hear claws ripping through the metal of the roof, and within seconds, there is a 3 metre wide gap that the dark metal once occupied. If I thought the screams were bad before, I was sorely mistaken, because the cries that fill the air around me are blood curdling. Because it isn't just screaming anymore- it's wailing; screeching; everybody crying out at once because every damn person on this train car is scared for their life. And they have every right to be.

The train screeches loudly, before, finally, we come to a sudden halt. Everything is silent for a moment, my laboured breathing the only thing audible to my sensitive ears. Marco's hand is still firm on my forearm, fingers digging into my skin. The dense woodland outside the windows is dark, a few stars glittering through the leaves. The silence lasts for only a moment, before a loud growl resonates through the air, some form of horrific beast dropping from the hole in the roof. It lands on all fours, sniffing at the air around it, glowing eyes flicking around the carriage. Marco tightens his fingers painfully around my arm, squeaking in distress.

The beast growls, it's upper lip pulling up in a snarl, and I panic slightly. Heart hammering, my hand flings to the side and grips into the fabric of Marco's shirt. Anything to make myself feel safe.

Someone further down the carriage starts sobbing, their gasping breaths loud against the quiet din that had settled over the train. The beast rears back and howls, it's painful cry carrying through the woods surrounding the train. The terrifying howl draws screams and yells from the population of the train carriage, and people whirl into a frenzy. They rise swiftly from their seats, feet pounding down the aisle. Marco, his hand still holding a firm grip on my arm, follows suit, practically yanking me out of my seat. My feet do the rest of the work, carrying me to the crowd of my fellow passengers, who all cling onto each other in the desperate hope that perhaps if they're all touching each other, maybe the... The fucking _werewolf_  won't get them. "C'mon, COME ON," a brunette cries, yanking on the door behind us, trying to get it to open. It must be jammed, because no matter how much he pulls or slams his fists against the glass, it just won't budge.  
I want to cry: this can't be real.  
It's obvious to me that this is all painfully real, however, when the creature takes lazy step towards us, teeth still bared, eyes flicking around our congregation. Someone behind me is still sobbing. The werewolf sniffs at the air, ears twitching, as it continues its slow advance on our group. Someone clutches at the back of my shirt and yelps. I don't know who.  
The creature bares it's teeth in a snarl before it begins to bound down the train carriage, and all I can hear is the blood in my ears and screaming, so much screaming, and the pounding footsteps of the beast and oh god I'm going to die.

I barely register the voice that rises over the chaos, I barely register how two figures drop from the large gash in the ceiling: one tall, one short. I barely notice anything at all because my eyes are wide and I don't know where to look and my fists are clenched in Marco's shirt so tightly that it hurts but I don't care because this is it, this is the end, I'm going to _fucking die_.  
I only notice the men, I only register how one of them calls out, when the creature's pounding footsteps stop, and I can hear it's snarling echo through the train car, despite the gasps and cries from people around me. I notice the men, one tall, one short, and I notice how the werewolf hunches low, attention turned away from us. I try to peer around it, get a better look at the two men, but it's fur is stuck on end and _god it's massive_.  
"Yeah, you there, you ugly oaf," one of the men states, sounding very bored, especially considering the sight he is beholding. The creature's fur stands even higher on it's back, hackles raised, and it... shivers? It emits a low whine -like that of a dog after being scolded- that quickly dissolves into another growl. It lunges towards the two men, and my fist tightens involuntarily into the cloth I'm holding.  
A quick glance confirms that I'm crinkling Marco's burgundy shirt quite severely, almost pulling it from his shoulder. But his fingers still haven't uncurled themselves from around my arm, so I guess we're about even?  
My eyes fly back to the creature, and my breath hitches as it bounds away from us, only to falter mid-step, howling in pain. It continues to lumber forwards, but it's loud breathing is whistling with every inhale. The man who talked earlier -who coaxed the beast into turning around- clicks his tongue, sighing through his nose. I hear a ‘ _whoomph_ ’ of expelled compressed air, before the werewolf whines again, keeling over onto it's side. It's breathing is heavily laboured now, each breath eliciting a high whining sound. It's chest rises and falls heavily as it's claws scratch against the wooden flooring of the train.

Two shiny silver bolts stick out of it's ribcage. Blood oozes from the wounds, dripping onto the ground in dark red globules.   
The shorter man walks forward, kneeling before the wounded creature. He tuts, brushing a finger through the fur on the werewolf's forehead, before driving a knife through it's skull.  
The creature stops twitching then.   
Marco whimpers, turning his head away from the splatter of blood and gore that erupts from the werewolf's head as the short man retracts the knife. The red fluid splashes on us both, and I flinch away when I feel the cold liquid come into contact with my skin. I gag when I feel it on my tongue, the metal taste making my gag reflex kick in. I retch again, spitting out a big wad of blood coloured saliva.  
When I look up again, the short man is staring daggers in my direction, eyes flicking between mine and Marco’s face.  
“Please, god, don’t tell me you fuckers got werewolf blood on you?” He sneers, fist tightening around the knife in his hand. I pause for a second, taken aback, before my natural sarcasm kicks in,  
“No, this is blood from the other thing on the train that got a _knife_  shoved through it’s fucking head,” I bark, wiping at the blood that now drips from my cheek. I think Marco’s brain melted somewhere around the time the short man mentioned ‘werewolf’; he’s looking at the dead creature with a blank expression, and his breathing is coming in shallow breaths.

“For fucks sake…” The short man pressing a hand to his forehead, face scrunched up in a pained expression. The other man steps forward, placing a hand on shorty’s shoulder. Now in the light, I notice that this guy looks suspiciously like Captain America. Right down to the dorito body physique and everything.

“Now, now, Levi, I’m sure these lovely young men will be of no problem to us,” Captain America reassures, eyeing us ‘young men’ warily.

“This day just _keeps_ on getting better, doesn’t it?” Levi sneers, face contorted in an ugly scowl. Not that I can judge, my face knows pretty much one expression, and it’s a scowl.

“Can someone please tell us what the fuck is going on?” A shrill voice from next to me asks, and a quick glance confirms it as coming from the brunette who pressed herself up against the glass earlier.

I fucking concur wholeheartedly.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was a little teaser for a fic that me and Avery are working on. No promises as to when it will next be updated, but it definitely will be!
> 
> Con-crit is welcomed  
> -Jay


End file.
